Botched Birthday Dinner
by Infinityy
Summary: Hermione ruins Harry's birthday dinner and decides to take him out instead. One-shot. Completed.


**AN: Fluff. Fluff. Fluff. I was listening to a song by Ingrid Michaelson and this bunny appeared to me. I know it's not particularly original, but then again, at this point what HASN'T been done? Short and sweet. Please review!**

**AN2: I dedicate this fluffy one-shot to all my loyal readers (& especially reviewers) of "Because of You". I apologize for the lack of fluff that has plagued my more recent chapters and bring you this. It is an olive branch of sorts – a sweet, sugary glimpse into the lives of H/Hr and a break from the angsty drama I've been subjecting you to.**

**AN3: I own nothing. I also have no clever way of stating that at the moment, so, just take it for what it is. Me / JKR.**

--

Hermione pointed her wand at the stove and muttered an incantation. As per usual, the spell was executed perfectly. The three pots resting on the burners began bubbling over, their contents turning an unappetizing shade of brown then black. A sharp, bitter smell filled the air and a cloud of grey smoke billowed up to the ceiling. Smiling, Hermione flicked her wand again and the pots became still.

"Oops," she whispered, grinning mischievously.

A few minutes later, she heard the front door open and them promptly click closed. She sank down into a chair at the kitchen table and rested her chin in her hands. She could hear Harry's footsteps as he walked down the hall and before long, he appeared in the doorway.

"What the bloody hell is that smell?" he asked, coming into the kitchen.

Hermione offered a weak smile than let out a sob and lowered her forehead to the table.

"It was supposed to be your birthday dinner," she cried, her voice muffled against the wood. "I'm normally so good at cooking. I thought I would try making you something special, without magic, but…"

Hermione looked up and waved tragically at the stove. Harry looked at the pots and cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm sure it's not that bad. I mean, when have you – Hermione Jean Granger – ever failed at anything?"

She shrugged and straightened. Harry smiled.

"Now get up and give me a proper birthday kiss," he said, grabbing her hand. She allowed him to pull her up from the table. He wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her close against his chest. He nuzzled his face into her hair and took a deep breath.

"I do believe I gave you a birthday kiss this morning," she teased, snaking a hand behind his neck, "among other things that resulted in you needing a very cold birthday shower."

Harry's arms slid slowly down her back.

"But morning was so very long ago," he whispered against her neck. The warmth of his breath against her skin caused the hairs on her arms prick up. She shuddered with pleasure then gently pushed away from him, scolding her self for being so easily distracted. She made a show of glancing at the stove and chewed her lip.

"Are you still going on about the birthday dinner?" Harry laughed and shook his head. Hermione released a labored sighed and shrugged. Harry shook his head again then released her from his arms and moved to the front of the stove.

"I'm sure it's not," he peaked into one of the pots, "that bad."

The contents of the pot, which had once been liquid, had formed a solid, black brick. Harry swallowed hard and picked up a fork that was resting on the counter nearby. He gave Hermione another big smile then chipped at the contents of the pot, breaking off a large chunk. Harry reached into the pot and grabbed the dislodged piece between his thumb and forefinger.

Hermione watched with wide eyes, barely able to contain the laughter bubbling deep in the core of her stomach. He wouldn't, would he?

Harry smiled grimly then tilted his head back and opened his mouth, lifting his arm so the piece between his fingers dangled just above his lips.

"Don't!" Hermione squeaked. "It is 'that bad'".

Harry lowered his head, smiling with an air of relief. Hermione let out a small giggle, unable to help herself.

"Really, it's ok," Hermione said with a flick of her wand. The pots immediately responded by floating up off the stove and into the sink. Harry laughed and shrugged, tossing the chunk he'd been holding onto the counter.

In one swift, fluid motion he moved back across the kitchen to where Hermione stood and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"We'll just owl for pizza or something later," he said, beginning to trace a line lightly across her jaw with his finger. "I'm not hungry anyways. I've got much more pressing needs to satisfy at the moment."

With that, he brought his finger slowly down her throat, following the trail with a light smattering of kisses. Hermione closed her eyes and arched her body into his, feeling a familiar warmth begin to build between her legs. Suddenly, she pulled back.

"Wait, Harry," she breathed, pushing forcefully against his chest.

"What? Wait? Why?" Harry let her untangle from his arms, drawing his face into a pout.

"Let's go out. To eat, I mean," she said, ignoring the pulsing protest from her core. Harry groaned and exaggerated a frown.

"Hermione, it's my birthday. I'd much rather spend it here, alone, with you…naked," he added, his face transforming into a boyish grin. "Yes. Definitely naked."

Hermione shook her head, determined not to be swayed. Still, she couldn't help a small, amused smile from crawling across her face.

"Yes, it's you're birthday. It comes around only once every 365 days and for the first few years of your life it wasn't even acknowledged. Then, when you finally left those vile relatives of yours and began risking life and limb for the Wizarding world, most birthdays only served as a sad reminder that there very well might not _be _another one. You deserve to celebrate it properly, with a good meal at least," she stated, punctuating her point with a glance at the sink.

Harry sighed. He seemed to be considering. She could see the wheels in his head turning as male urge fought against reasoning. He was close, but she could tell he was still going to need a push.

"It would make me feel a lot better," she nudged, "after I made a right mess of dinner and all." She looked at him with the biggest, most innocent eyes she could produce and immediately saw that she had won. Harry sighed again and jammed his hands into his pockets.

"Oh, alright," he groaned. "But when we get home –"

Hermione moved forward and pressed her self against his chest, effectively cutting him off. She dragged her lips lightly up his neck, standing on the tip of her toes to reach his ear.

"We'll have dessert," she whispered, finishing his sentence in the huskiest voice she could without sounding ridiculous. She allowed her lips to just barely brush against his skin. Harry pulled back and stared at her with wide, round eyes.

"Evil. You're absolutely evil," he said, shaking his head vigorously from side to side.

Hermione shrugged and smiled innocently.

"Let me just grab my purse and we'll go," she said, turning to leave the kitchen.

"Got any place in mind?" Harry called after her. She returned momentarily, purse slung over her shoulder.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

--

Hermione's heart was pounding in her ears. Standing outside The Three Broomsticks, she carefully reviewed a mental list she'd been keeping. As far as she knew, everything had gone as planned. As expected, Harry had resisted a bit, but she'd managed to get him here and that was all that mattered. _Merlin, he could be a stubborn arse!_

When she had said The Three Broomsticks, he'd simply laughed and suggested somewhere closer. For someone who had spent much of their early childhood without magic and using Muggle transportation, his concept of travel time had certainly been skewed since they'd passed their Apparation exams. Hermione knew it was more than just the added thirty seconds of darkness when apparating that far from their London flat that caused Harry's wariness. She knew Harry often had a difficult time returning to Hogsmeade and, more specifically, Hogwarts because of all the memories it forced him to relive, but that was part of the reason she had chosen it. He had whined, but eventually gave in when Hermione reminded him that the faster they went to dinner, the faster they could come home.

Now, standing outside the door of the pub that marked so many important moments of their childhood, Hermione hoped things on the other end had gone off without a hitch. Of course, when she'd gone to get her purse from the parlor of their flat, she'd sent ahead her Patronus, as Ron had suggested. It was too late to turn back or second guess anything now. Grabbing Harry's hand and giving it a squeeze, she pushed the wooden door open, pulling Harry in behind her.

At first, panic lodged itself in her throat as she scanned the seemingly empty pub. Had something gone wrong? Was she in the right place? Then, as Harry stepped out in front of her, a sea of people shimmered into view.

"Surprise!" the crowed yelled and instantly the pub became packed. Hermione felt a wave of relief. Obviously, someone had used a charm to conceal the group in order to surprise Harry. She smiled. Magic made everything so, _so _much cooler.

"Happy 20th Birthday, Harry!" Ron called, moving towards the bar. "Let's get this man a drink!"

Harry's mouth hung open slightly as Hermione watched his eyes scan the pub. There were the very familiar faces – the four youngest Weasley's and their parents, Luna, Neville, Seamus and Hagrid, but there were also the less familiar, yet easily recognizable ones - Collin Creevey, Lavender Brown, Katie Bell, Lee Jordan and a bunch of others they'd rarely seen since the war. Hermione was overwhelmed by the amount of guests and could only imagine how the humble hero by her side must be feeling. She didn't have to wonder long.

Harry turned to her, his face glowing with disbelief. _At least she'd pulled off the surprise part._ Slowly, he raised his hands to her face and gently cupped her cheeks. He looked into her eyes, his green, intense ones dripping with adoration and love, then planted a kiss softly against her lips. The pub exploded in a flurry of whoops and cheers and Hermione grinned as her cheeks flushed. She wondered idly how long their friends had been here waiting, with little more than the bar to keep them occupied.

Harry appeased the crowd by flashing a thumbs up, which rewarded a collective laugh, then turned his attention back to Hermione.

"You… all of this? You planned this?"

Hermione nodded, unable to stop an enormous grin from spreading across her face.

"So, dinner – your 'ruined attempt at cooking'… " he asked, letting the sentence trail off.

"You said it yourself," she answered smugly, "when have I – Hermione Jean Granger – ever failed at anything?"

Harry shook his head then dipped his head to kiss her again.

"I love you," he whispered, before their lips met.

It was a quick kiss, because almost instantly Harry was pulled away by Ron who shoved a bottle of dark, amber liquid into his hand.

"Happy birthday, mate!" Ron said, slapping Harry on the shoulder. "You've got an enormous cake back there…" The red-haired boy gazed longingly towards the back of the pub obviously very interested in attaining a piece. Harry chuckled then caught Hermione's eyes. She raised a brow curiously.

"Go for it, Ron," Harry said with a wave of his hand, continuing to stare at Hermione. With a mischievous grin, he added, "I'm good. I've got dessert waiting at home."


End file.
